With: Sarah Thornton-Carlton and whoever else happens to be in the saloon.
Location: Stardust Saloon
When: Summer (late July/early August) 1876
Time of Day: Early Afternoon (Weekday)
Sarah took a slow and steady step into the saloon so that she could gently open and close one of the swinging doors. The last thing she wanted was to make an undignified entrance by having both doors hitting her in the back. Looking around the room as her eyes slowly adjusted, she could see an array of people. Thankfully, it was not too crowded at this time of day and hopefully she would have her business done by the time the more exuberant crowd came in.
Her business was to interview Hiriam Priest, who apparently spent a lot of time here. Priest was one of the candidates in the upcoming mayoral elections and it was her job to write about him. So far, Priest hadn't said much about what his platform was but that was understandable since he was new in town having only arrive a day or two before nominations were closed. That was about a week or so ago and even the other contenders hadn't done much except talk to a few people and speak at one or two social events.
However, her articles for the Kalispell Union weren't going to be about what the candidates were standing for or what their plans for Kalispell were, that was McVey's job. She was going after the human-interest aspect...to find out what sort of men they really were. Very little was known about Priest, and she intended to find out what made him tick.
As she continued to look around, she could see several men who could be Priest. Since she wasn't one to frequent the saloon, she had no idea of what he looked like as not many people had seen him outside of here. There was one person that would know and that would be the bartender, so she started to make her way towards him.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Arabella gave an audible gasp and nearly dropped the nice clean glasses that she was carrying in from the kitchen when she saw the respectable Mrs Thornton-Carlton walk into the Saloon that day. However, she managed to keep a grip on the jars and quickly intersperse herself between the elegantly dressed reporterix and Ralph's bar.
"Oh! Don't do it! Don't do it, Mrs Lady!!" she cried, looking up at the female writer, who stood so very statuesque and tall, a model of propriety, compared to the scruffy little pot washer in her crumpled and stained smock and pinney.
"Think! The demon drink is not the answer! Hard licker and a dissolute lifestyle is NEVER the answer, no matter what has happened!" The little teetotaller Methodist girl was (unsurprisingly) banned from carrying on her temperance campaign within the bar itself, but this felt like an emergency.
"Perhaps you have fallen by the wayside, been lost in the shuffle of life, no doubt some scoundrel of a man is to blame, but there is a way back: Jesus will help you! Here..." she needed to reach into her apron pocket but her hands were full of glasses "...oh, hold on up there a second, I need to..." she placed the glasses on the bar and with freed hands pulled out a tatty religious tract "... here, heed the word of the Lord. Let me drag you from this den of iniquity!" she tried to press the temperance literature into Sarah's elegantly gloved hands and grab her arm to pull her out of the Stardust at the same time.
"Come on!" she cried urgently "Before you end up a fallen woman like Mrs Adams over there or dressed in harlot red, flashin' yer ankles to the fellers like ol' Mundee!"
Ralph looked up when the batwings swung open, he always did to assess what new sort of customer might be entering the premises. Usually they were cowpokes or townie regulars and the vast majority were men too. Now this one though....he had never seen her before and frankly she looked far too well heeled and proper to wander into a saloon. She approached the bar then and her eyes went straight to him. Fair enough.
"Ma'am, can I....." he started.
"Oh! Don't do it! Don't do it, Mrs Lady!!"
Ralph rolled his eyes but knew better than to try to talk over the chatterbox teenager. Oh geezus, what was she doing now? Bible thumping about the evils of drink. Right in the saloon itself, Matilda would have been furious. But then Tildy was gone, hopefully happier in San Francisco than she was here.
Now Ara was making it worse, laying hands on the woman.
"Ara!" Ralph snapped, there were boundaries and she was definitely way past them now.
Of course her histrionics were drawing attention of what customers there were in the place to this unseemly display. Caroline had been standing over a card table watching two regulars play and chatting but now she too turned to see what drama was there now.
"Come on!" Arabella cried urgently "Before you end up a fallen woman like Mrs Adams over there or dressed in harlot red, flashin' yer ankles to the fellers like ol' Mundee!"
Caroline flushed angrily, did she just call her....?
"Excuse me, boys" she said as she left the table and went straight for the embarrassing scene created by all things, an employee who should know better by now!
She was fast alright when she wanted to be and almost in a blink she was right behind the drama queen that was Arabella. Reaching out to grip the girl hard by one skinny upper arm, Caroline hissed, "Let's go inta the kitchen...now."
It was not a suggestion but an order, the look in her eyes was seething.
Before Sarah could ask the bartender about Priest, a whirlwind came out of nowhere...
"Oh! Don't do it! Don't do it, Mrs Lady!!"
Don't do what? Sarah was a bit perplexed and was about to ask what it was she shouldn't be doing when the girl spoke again.
"Think! The demon drink is not the answer! Hard licker and a dissolute lifestyle is NEVER the answer, no matter what has happened!"
Not knowing what to say, Sarah just blankly stared at the girl.
"Perhaps you have fallen by the wayside, been lost in the shuffle of life, no doubt some scoundrel of a man is to blame, but there is a way back: Jesus will help you! Here..." she needed to reach into her apron pocket but her hands were full of glasses "...oh, hold on up there a second, I need to..." she placed the glasses on the bar and with freed hands pulled out a tatty religious tract "... here, heed the word of the Lord. Let me drag you from this den of iniquity!"
Well, the girl had a point...a saloon could be a den of iniquity, but she wasn't here about that. The next thing Sarah knew was that girl grabbed her arm and was trying to give her something. The girl seemed eager to get rid of her.
"Come on!" she cried urgently "Before you end up a fallen woman like Mrs Adams over there or dressed in harlot red, flashin' yer ankles to the fellers like ol' Mundee!"
The girl's next statement bought on the appearance of an older woman, who by the way she was dressed was obviously an employee of the saloon. The newcomer was probably Mundee, as Sarah knew who Mrs Adams was. Mrs Wilson, the wife of the General Store owner pointed her out to her the other day.
As for Mundee, she didn't seem particularly happy...
"Let's go inta the kitchen...now."
Not wanting to be dragged into the kitchen along with the young girl, Sarah put her free hand up in a stopping motion, "Before you leave to speak to your friend, may I have my arm back?"
As Arabella let go of Mrs Thornton-Carlton's arm and was dragged off, kicking and screaming, by Caroline for a good dressing down in the kitchen (Arabella actually secretly enjoyed such dramatic scenes) a few men went to move in on the pretty new stranger in the bar. However, they were forestalled by Mrs Adams who, drawn by the squeaky voice of the young Virginian, high pitched enough to cut through her tinnitus, and seeing the blurred figure of another woman in the place, had drawn out her seeing glasses and espied a well dressed young doxy standing at the bar.
She hustled over.
"Hey you, this patch is taken! Go sell your stuff elsewhere!" she warned off the competition.
Then she screwed up her eyes and groped around in the whiskey sloshing around her skull and found a memory floating on top of it there.
"Oh, hold on, you're that writer lady ain't ya?" she slurred. "Sarah somethin' somethin'. Yeah, I heard of you, guess you've come in here to write a story about us poor, common people for your fancy magazines, huh?" she guessed "Lookin' down your nose at how we're all boozed up and de... degenerate!" Didn't know where she'd pulled that word from! Pretty good, she thought.
She was about to call her out to the gang in the saloon, but then an idea hit her, she shifted gears to a more friendly tone "Hey, you wanna write a story about me?" she smiled sweetly. "Oooh, I could tell you stories that'd make your readers' hair curl! Let's get a couple o' drinks and sit down over there an' I can tell you aaaaall about it. mine's a whiskey, straight... double." she purred.
"Hey you, this patch is taken! Go sell your stuff elsewhere!" she warned off the competition.
Sarah shook her head slightly, "I have no intention of taking over your patch or any other."
Knowing that this was Sally Adams, Sarah decided that the best thing would be was to ignore her. She was about ask the bartender where Mr. Priest was when Sally interjected again.
"Oh, hold on, you're that writer lady ain't ya?" she slurred. "Sarah somethin' somethin'. Yeah, I heard of you, guess you've come in here to write a story about us poor, common people for your fancy magazines, huh?" she guessed "Lookin' down your nose at how we're all boozed up and de... degenerate!"
All Sarah could do was smile meekly.
Hey, you wanna write a story about me?" she smiled sweetly. "Oooh, I could tell you stories that'd make your readers' hair curl! Let's get a couple o' drinks and sit down over there an' I can tell you aaaaall about it. mine's a whiskey, straight... double." she purred.
Again Sarah shook her head, "Unfortunately, I won't be able to interview you today. Perhaps I can talk to my editor, Mr. McVey and tell him that you are interested in telling your story and talk to you another day. As it is, I have my orders and I am here to see someone else."
She smiled again, hoping that her answer would placate the woman. The best thing for now was to get her story and leave as soon as she could. Turning to the bartender, she leaned slightly forward and asked, "Could you tell me where I could Mr. Hiriam Priest?"
Ralph was listening to Sally pester the newly arrived lady, someone who wrote for the newspaper he now realized. He also noted how the hooker was attempting to do the very same job that Caroline did and frowned. But the newcomer turned her down flat .
Turning to the bartender, she leaned slightly forward and asked, "Could you tell me where I could find Mr. Hiram Priest?"
"Sure ma'am. He is sitting at that table over there, " Ralph pointed in the proper direction, "the old fella shuffling the card deck."
While the reporter headed over to Priest, Ralph had something to say to Sally Adams.
"Hey...word of warning. You aren't supposed to be bothering the customers and especially drummin' up drinks. That job belongs to Caroline and you damn well know it. Don't let her catch you doin' that either. Trust me, you don't want her mad at you. She could make it very painful. And that is my only warning."
Again Sarah shook her head, "Unfortunately, I won't be able to interview you today. Perhaps I can talk to my editor, Mr. McVey and tell him that you are interested in telling your story and talk to you another day. As it is, I have my orders and I am here to see someone else."
"McVey?!" queried Sally "Huh!" she didn't look to impressed by that idea, and was quickly losing interest in the woman, now she knew she wasn't a rival hooker. Mrs Adams tended to live very much in the present tense: promises of the future gain didn't really float her boat. She needed a drink now, or a customer who would give her money for one.
She smiled again, hoping that her answer would placate the woman. The best thing for now was to get her story and leave as soon as she could. Turning to the bartender, she leaned slightly forward and asked, "Could you tell me where I could Mr. Hiriam Priest?"
Turning to the bartender, she leaned slightly forward and asked, "Could you tell me where I could find Mr. Hiram Priest?"
"Sure ma'am. He is sitting at that table over there, " Ralph pointed in the proper direction, "the old fella shuffling the card deck."
While the reporter headed over to Priest, Ralph had something to say to Sally Adams.
"Hey...word of warning. You aren't supposed to be bothering the customers and especially drummin' up drinks. That job belongs to Caroline and you damn well know it."
Sally screwed up her eyes to focus them on the big bearded barkeep and then waved a dismissive hand at hm. "Oh I ain't drummin' up drinks, I need a drink!" she informed him, lurching a little sideways. She was pretty well oiled already.
"Don't let her catch you doin' that either. Trust me, you don't want her mad at you. She could make it very painful. And that is my only warning."
Sally leaned against the bar to steady herself and shook her head. "No, no, no ,no ,no..." she slurred. "Me and Calorine... we're like that..." she held up her crossed fingers. "See, she does the drinks number, little Alabella she plays the piana, and I entertain the gentlemen who're feelin' a little lonely." She was telling him what he already knew of course, but drunk people tended to do that.
"See..." she leaned over the bar now and tried to wave him closer in to him, as if to impart some great secret, as her low cut dress struggled to contain her bulging assets.
"These fellers you got in here right now're either never been lonely or they're just a great big bunch o' pansies cause I can't pick up a trick fer love nor money." she confided sadly. It didn't occur to her that it might be more the quality of the merchandise on sale, rather than a lack of appetite by the buying customer base, that was causing a fluctuation in the market.
"Everybody can feather their nest, but it's not just anybody that can lay an egg!"
Meanwhile in the kitchen, much to the eye-rolling and head shaking exasperation of Mrs McMahon, who was trying to prepare food for the customers (a nice tasty salty beef stew), Caroline and Arabella were squaring up for this evening's 'scene'.
"Aw!! What you pulling me along for like that?!" screeched Arabella "You broke my arm! I can't play the piana now! You've ruined me!" she squealed like a stuck pig, tears running obligingly down her cheeks.
Messalina's personal theory was that Arabella had some sort of salt-water reservoir where her brain ought to be, so readily and copiously was she able to turn on the eye-faucets. When she had aired this theory out loud to the girl herself, Arabella had shaken her head from side to side, to see if she could hear the water sloshing about, which at least proved the first part of the theory - that there was no brain there.
Now it was Caroline's turn: the talented blonde singer would get really, seriously angry with Arabella over something: sometimes becoming quite upset. Then there would be more tears from Arabella, promises to be good. A rueful acceptance of her promises. Hugs. And then they would go out and play their parts successfully in the Saloon. It had almost become a ritual. Caroline could have possibly done without it, but Arabella seemed addicted.
Messalina waited to hear what the odd little Southern girl had done to press Caroline's buttons tonight.
Aw!! What you pulling me along for like that?!" screeched Arabella "You broke my arm! I can't play the piana now! You've ruined me!" she squealed like a stuck pig, tears running obligingly down her cheeks.
"Oh shut up and stop yer bawlin'. I didn't break your arm. But if I wanted to I could snap one of those sticks of yers easy," Caroline glared at her.
"Had I been dealing with an adult I would have asked you to accompany me inta th kitchen but I was dealing with you. A rotten little brat who still hasn't grown up."
"What have I told you a million times - we got us a job to do...we're professionals. Have I not taught you to take all this seriously? And then you go on like that out there? The evils of liquor? It's our fuckin' job to sell drinks! "